


boy you can be my sunshine

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-24
Updated: 2012-11-24
Packaged: 2017-11-19 09:36:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/571844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>' “They’re not important if they dehumanize us,” Niall shrugs and steps away from Zayn, turning to walk down the main corridor between the pews, fingers running over the edges of the carved wood, “I get it if you just want to pretend for the rest of your life that you don’t care about me, marry some girl your parents like and have half a million kids like a good Christian man. That’s fine. That’s what everyone wants of me too. That’s what they expect of me, but that’s not who I am. And I’m not going to pretend I’m some family man when all I want is an apartment with half a million books and a Nando’s down the corner. Maybe you don’t want to fight things Zayn, but I do.” '</p>
            </blockquote>





	boy you can be my sunshine

**Author's Note:**

> for the prompt; Zayn is raised in a homophobic family, and so is Niall. They know each other from church, but they fall in love, despite the homosexual oppositions within the church… then… they run away? Fill in the blanks love (:
> 
> title from fall in love by rita ora. this was supposed to be a quick fill. haha, me, quick fill?
> 
> disclaimer; my knowledge of church is limited and i do not wish to offend anyone. if anything is problematic due to my lack of knowledge please do tell me. standard disclaimer applies also, i do not own one direction or nick grimshaw, none of this is real and um, please don't share it with anyone affiliated with or is the people within this.

**

Zayn can almost feel the proudness oozing from his parents as he stands, a little awkwardly with the other children in their best Sunday dresses and suits. Zayn’s is a little too big, it fits loosely on his frame, and the seven year old kind of hates it.

 

He really doesn’t like coming to church much, it’s a little boring, and it always seems to be sunny outside when he’s stuck in the big, draughty building singing hymns of praise. He just really wants to play on the new playground equipment they’ve put in the park over the road, but he’s here, stuck in this horrid, dusty place in an uncomfortable suit.

 

But your First Communion is an _important_ thing, or so Zayn’s been told, so he just stands there, smiling awkwardly out at the sea of families and old people, hoping this will be over, really, really soon. There’s a muffled snort of laughter, and the boy next to Zayn stumbles a little, into him. Zayn instantly reaches out, grabbing a hold of the boy’s hand and steadying him.

 

The boy next to him smiles gratefully, and Zayn’s never seen him before nor those cerulean eyes and he stares, because they’re kind of beautiful. “You have pretty eyes.” Zayn whispers, and the boy giggles, his pale cheats heating up as he looked away.

“So do you.” He whispers back, smiling a little and readjusting his hand in Zayn’s.

 

And together, not letting go of each other’s hands, they take their First Communion.

 

**

The boy’s name is Niall, and he’s new to this church community. When they finally get out of the church, snuffling because the organ was dusty, Niall takes Zayn’s hand and they rush over to the playground. They debate over whether to use the swings or the slide first as their parents rush over to tell them off for playing in their suits.

 

They decide the swings, if their shouting mums are anything to go by, and have a contest to see who can swing the highest. Deciding that the boys can’t get too dirty whilst on the swing set their mothers smile, and then look at each other, gravitating to each other to have a good old yak. Maura’s new to this congregation, her family’s just moved from Ireland and it seems that Niall was already making friends, and Trisha’s always happy when Zayn’s making new ones.

 

When their mothers are sufficiently distracted by each other, Niall and Zayn sneak off the swings, because that slide looks kind of lonely and well, fun too. Zayn likes the way his new friend’s cheeks turn pink in the cool air and his bubbly laughter. Niall likes the way Zayn just watches everything with his big, brown eyes and how he smiles.

 

Zayn lets Niall use the slide first, eyes crinkling up into a smile as the blonde cackles the whole way down the slide, and the elated grin that lit up those tiny pinks lips as he landed in a heap at the bottom. Zayn laughs too, barrelling down the slide, and landing on a heap at the bottom on top of Niall.  New screams of laughter burst out of Niall, and the two new friends start tickling each other, mussing up their good suits, but having too much fun to care.

 

As they lay down, puffed from their tickle fight, noses just a few centimetres away from each other Niall smiles and takes Zayn’s hand. They stare at each other and Zayn smiles too. It’s a small moment, but Zayn thinks he might love his new friend, a lot.

 

When it’s time to go home (“Your suits are all messy, they’re going to take a long time to clean.”) Niall throws a tantrum when they try to make him let go of Zayn’s hand. It’s only after excessive promises of play-dates and seeing his “best friend” again that Niall calms down enough for Zayn to tell him that it’s a little babyish to throw tantrums. Niall sticks his tongue out at Zayn, but to be honest, Zayn’s totally flattered that the beautiful boy wants to be his friend so desperately and plants a kiss on the boy’s forehead.

 

Maura and Trisha think it’s just adorable, and they agree to meet up at that playground the very next day.

 

 

**

At age twelve Niall and Zayn grow even more bored of Sunday school than of real school. They’re too old for the church to think that colouring in is helpful, and they just have to sit and listen to some learning to be pastor or something person preach. They’ve got a really monotone voice, and Zayn’s promised to take Niall to the new _Nando’s_ that’s just opened up in Bradford.

 

It’s easy to tell that Niall’s hungry as he wiggles around his seat, huffing every so often. Zayn pokes him, warning him to wait it out for another half an hour. Niall just makes a face, and sticks his tongue out, immediately the preacher calls out Niall’s name, demanding that the Irish boy tell him what book he had been reading from.

 

As Niall’s stomach is more attached to his brain than his ears he flounders, looking unsure. Zayn’s known the bible cover to cover since he was five, and whispers the right answer to Niall. Settling a little, Niall smiles winningly and calls out the answer.  The preacher looks furious. And as a small motion, something familiar and just _right_ Niall leans over and the tiniest press of lips against forehead occurs. The air sort of changes into something soft, loving and Zayn smiles, staring straight at Niall, straight into those blue eyes, which he could probably loose himself into. Niall grins back, smile tickling the corners of his lips and he kind of loves his best friend, a lot.

 

There’s a cough, and the two boys look up to the entire Sunday school class staring at them, a couple of girls giggling and a thunderous look on the preacher’s face. They laugh the moment off, and everyone else joins in. The laughter echoes in the large hall, which only spurs the giggling more, and soon the moment is forgotten, except for the preacher, who looks half way between exploding with anger and vomiting.

 

When the laughter dies down, the topic changes and suddenly it’s on the wrongness of homosexuality. How it’s a _sin_. The preacher gets passionate about it, throwing his anger into the argument, and Niall looks at Zayn, rolling his eyes like the preacher’s crazy, and Zayn can’t help agree, where’d it say in the bible that it’s sinful to be homosexual?

 

“Excuse me sir,” A little girl from the front of the class asks, and the preacher pauses, face red to nod and listen to her question, “but what is homosexuality? And why is love bad? You were just saying it was good.”

 

The preacher looks ready to throw something, and thankfully one of the mums from congregation comes in, ending the session. Niall goes to take Zayn’s hand, like he normally does, but he glances at the preacher, and then shrugs, letting his hand drop to his side. Zayn thinks he kind of hates it as they walk to _Nando’s_ , fingers not gripping onto one another’s.

 

**

It’s later that night, when the two boys are having a sleepover at Zayn’s house and they’re snuggled up on Zayn’s bed watching a movie when Niall brings up the Sunday school lesson. Zayn’s been waiting for it, but he’s stunned into silence when Niall voices the question.

 

“Is it wrong to love you, Zayn?” Niall’s voice sounds so broken, tiny like he’s not sure of anything and Zayn pulls him in, blonde hair brushing against his chin.

“I think the man meant a different sort of love, Ni.” Zayn manages, but Niall just pulls away, looking deep into Zayn’s eyes.

“Like, there are different types of love?” He asks, curiously, resting his chin upon one of his propped up hand, like he was waiting for Zayn to teach him.

“Yeah, like mummy and daddy love, and like brotherly sisterly love and friend love.” Zayn explains, not entirely sure himself but glad that Niall’s asking him. It makes him feel smart, and wanted.

“Oh” Niall said, his voice dull but then he looked up, more curiosity shining in his eyes, “But why is it wrong to love another boy?” Zayn ponders the question for a moment, thinking about what the preacher had said, but he hadn’t actually said _why_ , just that it was.

 

“I don’t know.” Zayn finally decides on, seeing as he could think of no other answer. Niall screws up his nose making a stupid face and Zayn laughs, poking him.

“But girls are icky.” Niall replies, the most sincere look on his face and Zayn laughs again, his chortles filling the air.

“Yeah.” He agrees, smiling a little. Girls weren’t as icky as Niall thought they were, but he was younger and wouldn’t quite understand that. Besides, Greg had said that one day that both of them would think the complete opposite of girls, marry one and have children – or something like that.

 

They lapse into silence, looking back at the television screen before Niall speaks again.

 

 “Zayn,” He questions cautiously, picking at the stitching of Zayn’s sleeve, “what’s kissing _properly_ like?” Zayn turns back to Niall, wondering when he became the oracle of all knowledge for the blonde, but just tries to answer the best he can.

“Like other kisses, but on the mouth.” He explains, although he’s not sure Niall will quite get it – they’ve had pecks on lips from parents before, when they were younger.

“Like what?” Niall’s face looks positively confused, titling his head as if that in some way will help him think and before Zayn’s thinking himself he grips Niall’s chin firmly.

“Like this.” He murmurs, practically into Niall’s mouth and closes in on the cherry pink lips with his own. He’s not kissed anyone before like this, but Zayn’s seen enough in the movies to sort of guess what it’s like and although everything he’s seen has been with girls, that doesn’t matter, does it? Niall’s lips are a little dry, and Zayn likes the feel of them, opening his mouth and letting his tongue dart out to brush against those dry lips. Niall lets out a squeak and whilst his own mouth is open Zayn slips his tongue in. He’s not sure what to do with it, but it feels good against Niall’s.

 

“That’s kind of nice.” Niall says when they break a part, a little breathless and he makes the face that means he’s thinking. Zayn definitely agrees, and wouldn’t mind repeating it.

“Yeah.” He sticks with, mainly because he doesn’t know how to ask to kiss Niall again, nor if they really should.  
“Even with girls though?” Niall looks quizzical, like that’s a serious question to be asking, and Zayn laughs, one more time and bops him on the nose.

“Yeah, Niall, even with girls.” He smirks, and turns back to the movie.

 

 

**

At fifteen, Niall doesn’t think girls are icky anymore. It’s quite the opposite really, and they flounder over his Irish accent, desperate for his attention. Zayn thinks it’s all a little stupid, and he’d say something but everyone would just say he’s jealous, which he agrees, yes, maybe all that attention from girls would be nice but he kind of really misses his best friend. Misses the boy he made mud pies with, and the one that asked him if kissing girls was actually nice. Which, by the looks of it, he now knows just how _nice_ it is to kiss girls.

 

Sometimes, it seems like a new girl every couple of days or so, and Zayn has started to not even bother to learn their names. There’s not much point when Niall’s being a bit of a womanizer, pulling out cute faces and then gorgeous smiles to knock ‘em dead. It’s a bore really, and despite Niall seeming to have fun and offering to find Zayn a girl, Zayn’s really not that interested. He goes out with Perrie for a bit – the girl’s charming and sweet, and kissing her is _nice_ in a way that’s calming and gentle but not much else. Not like Niall describes kissing now, and not like kissing Niall at all.

 

His family, Niall’s family, everyone he knows, they all talk about how the boys are growing up and how one day they’ll find a girl to settle down with – be it from here or somewhere else and Zayn hates that kind of talk. He hates the way they so idly talk about his future, like it’s already planned out and there’s nothing he can do, no control over what happens to him. And he hates the way it’s always a girl. The scenario always has some pretty girl on his arm, thinking he’s the world or something else borderline romantic, several parts creepy and a pinch of misogynistic.

 

And, Zayn thinks to himself, what he doesn’t want a girl?

 

What if what he wants is flat chested, with broad shoulders and lanky legs? What if it’s not the pretty smiling brunette his family has got in mind with a big smile and even bigger tits? What if he doesn’t like this apparently ideal world that’s been designed for him, and what if he just wants a small flat with half a million books, flat screen television and a boy that’ll drink coffee and sleep in on Sundays? What if he doesn’t want what the preachers and the church tell him he’s supposed to want?

 

But, it doesn’t seem to matter what he wants. His thoughts are irrelevant to his future, and as he rocks up late for youth group that week, apologies on his lips all eyes focus on him as he sits down beside Niall. There’s a large group in their congregation, particularly of girls and with a gritted jaw he wonders which one his family is entertaining for him to marry eventually. He doesn’t calm down enough until Niall’s fingernails scratch gently across the back of his neck in slow, soothing motions.

 

**

The first time he hears a rumour that Niall isn’t really complying to the preachers’ terrible words of ‘homosexuality is a sin’ Zayn isn’t sure if he’s shocked, or been waiting for it. Perrie hears it through a friend of a friend, or something, and she’s not sure what happened, but it must have been at one of those under the radar parties that someone of the likes of Harry Styles throws. There would have been plenty of alcohol, so goodness knows what happened, or who saw. And Zayn’s a little miffed as to why Niall didn’t invite him too, or even just tell him what had happened.

 

The night he hears the rumour, Zayn invites himself over to the Horan household, and Maura seems pleased to see him. They chat for a little while, polite small talk and Maura asks if he’s thinking of taking his confirmation soon, and Zayn tries on a smile two sizes too small and says he’s only turning sixteen in a couple of months. The conversation turns a little sour, as if his immediate disregard of being confirmed so young is _wrong_ and Zayn excuses himself to dart up stairs, pausing to say a quick hello to Greg. He doesn’t knock as he opens Niall’s door, and there’s scuffling as he does so. Zayn opens it up to Niall and a boy sitting on opposite ends of his bed, Niall’s hair mussed up and the boy’s shirt is has the first several buttons undone, and it’s easy to tell what they were up to.

 

“Hi,” Niall smiles, a tiny curve of lips and he has the decency to blush, “How have you been Zayn?” He says so formally, and it _hurts_ a little.

“Alright,” Zayn gets quietly out, “I was just going to talk to you, but I guess it doesn’t matter now. And, be thankful I wasn’t your mother.” With a small smile to the tanned boy sitting upon Niall’s bed, he gives a few parting words “I’ll stop interrupting” and darted out Niall’s door, back down stairs. Maura looked interested as he hurried, but he gave an excuse of homework that Niall had reminded him of, and ensured that she wouldn’t go up.

 

As Zayn walked dejectedly home, he loudly sighed to himself.

 

 

**

When his aunty comes to visit, Zayn gets to meet the boy upon Niall’s bed properly as he brings him – as a friend, Niall had smiled winningly to Trisha – to a welcoming barbecue. He has a quick smile, pretty blue eyes and a wicked sense of humour that had Zayn’s sides bursting with laughter. It was easy to see why Niall had fallen for him, or whatever it was, and the poor blonde was in stitches most of the night despite half of what _Louis_ had to say not being as funny as Niall thought he was.

 

At one point, Niall cornered Zayn, fingers curling around  his bicep much the way Zayn had seem them curl around Louis' and he offered a small smile. Zayn offered one back, he was raised well and politely and Niall took that as a cue to talk.

 

“Look,” He says, like it’s a secret and well, maybe it kind of was, “I was going to tell you, but I just haven’t seen you much, and my parents or yours or someone in that bloody place has always been there and they’d practically crucify me if they found out.” And Zayn understands, he really does, but his insides are still twisting unpleasantly. “You know my dad checks my phone, so it’s not like I could have texted you.”

“It’s okay.” Zayn replies, even though it’s not – Niall could have _called_ , it’s not like his dad recorded the phone calls – and even though he wants to say how Niall shouldn’t, he has no reason, other than the church would disapprove and that would be hypocritical of him, or at least a little bit. “I know now.”

 

“And that’s why you’re my best friend,” Niall smiles, squeezing Zayn’s bicep, “You're completely wonderful and understanding…” And Niall looks like he’s going to say more, but in the end he spots Louis, and drops his hand before bounding away to the pretty brunette. Zayn lays down for a little while, claiming he has a headache. And maybe it’s not the complete truth, but he will get a headache if he has to watch the two secret lovebirds any longer.

 

**

Before his aunty leaves, they have the dreaded this-is-my-idea-for-your-future talk, and surprisingly it’s the best one he’s had. Certainly, it’s like there’s nothing in his hands and God’s already planned it all out, but at least his aunty talks about how he’s got those plans already in him and asks what he wants. Zayn can’t say anything about what he really wants is a boy, not a girl, but he talks about his apartment with all the books and sleeping in on Sundays and she seems to think it sounds like a marvellous plan. And, eventually the discussing on _girls_ comes up, but she unwittingly makes it easier and just asks what he would like, what’s his type or the like and Zayn can answer that, and do so with a smile instead of a grimace upon his face.

 

He says how his favourite colour eyes are blue, how that would be amazing to wake up to every morning, especially when they’re sleepy and just opening. He talks about blonde locks, even if they’re dyed like Perrie’s, how he likes the different shades and how they’d look in the lazy mornings, sunlight peeking through the windows. He thinks he’d like someone with a _different_ accent, someone that he could listen to for hours on end, like a record, and how he wouldn’t mind if their lips were chapped or a just a little dry at times. His aunty smiles, and says that would be a wonderful girl and Zayn just agrees but a nauseous feeling settles in his stomach and he knows _who_ he just described to his aunty.

 

When she does leave, they don’t take her to the airport as she ordered a taxi, so they wave each other off and Niall comes with Louis to say goodbye. His aunty gets this funny look on her face as she glances momentarily at the blonde, but shakes it off and smiles and waves. Zayn feels his stomach drop even more and disappears into his room really fast after she finally goes. He punches his pillow, feeling angry and _stupid_ , and he yells at Niall and Louis to go away when they knock on his door to be let in. For a moment, it feels like they might enter anyway and Zayn might just cry – especially if his aunty texts to ask if she knows the blue eyed blonde Zayn described as perfect – but they leave him alone and his phone doesn’t buzz.

 

And what if Zayn doesn’t want a girl? What if he wants Niall?

 

 

**

His aunt does call, eventually, and he sits there and watches his mobile ring and ring until the tone goes towards the end and he hurriedly picks up.

 

“It’s okay.” Is the first thing her lilting voice says, “I'm not going to tell anyone if you don’t want to. I just want you to know that I'm here. For anything, and I know how Christian your parents can be, and I know how hard it is lying to them, but this isn’t something you can change, and you shouldn’t have to change yourself for people that aren’t you.”

“Thank you.” Zayn manages, clutching the phone to his ear tightly, “I don’t even know what I want - or how I feel or anything and…”

“And your friend, Niall isn’t it? He’s got a boyfriend, right?” His aunty murmurs and Zayn didn’t realise how much that affected him until she said it, voice choking up and it hits him, right in his chest.

 

“I don’t know.” Zayn’s voice breaks a little, somewhere between don’t and know, and a loud, large sob escapes his lips into the heavy silence of his room, “I just don’t know.”

“We’ll work this out.” His aunt promises, and he believes her because there’s not much else he can do, things will hurt too much if he doesn’t.

 

When he comes down from dinner that night, his youngest sister asks why his face is red and Zayn can’t think of anything to say to that.

 

 

**

After he turns seventeen, Zayn gets his first late night phone call from Niall in what seems like years. The words are hushed, and his voice sounds wrecked, but not in a good way, and Zayn agrees immediately to open his room window for Niall to climb in. It doesn’t take long for the tiny blonde to appear, tugging himself up over the windowsill and the first thing Zayn notices is his redden cheeks and nose, and how shiny his eyes are.

 

Without a second thought, Zayn wraps his arms around Niall, dragging him onto Zayn’s bed and hugs him tightly. Niall grips tightly onto Zayn back, blunt fingernails digging into Zayn's skin, and Zayn just rocks him gently. Tears start to flow, and Niall makes these horrible little choking noises, and Zayn doesn’t know what to do but hug the boy tighter, rubbing his back in slow, smooth movements. He murmurs stupid little things to Niall, pulling out old memories and things that had made Niall laugh in the past.

 

The crying turns into slow, long sobs that rack Niall's body, shaking it and Zayn moves them a little, lying down on his bed and tucking Niall in closer. There he can rub at Niall's shoulders better, fingers dancing along the muscles to sooth them and work out the stress until Niall is feeling better.

 

The noises come to stop a fair while after, just a few hiccupping sobs escape, and Zayn keeps at his motions, murmuring into Niall's hair, pressing fierce, quick kisses to his damp forehead. Whatever has made Niall so sad Zayn wants get rid of it, and make sure it never hurts the blonde again. The hiccups come to an end, and Niall tugs himself closer to Zayn, like he’s trying to get into Zayn's skin, or at least into his clothes. The moment feels so dreadfully intimate that Zayn flushes brightly, thankful that it can’t be seen in the darkness.

 

“Ni, you want to tell me what’s up?” Zayn asks, rubbing at Niall's back even whilst Niall tries to get closer, wrapping himself up in Zayn's jumper.

“Just some stuff.” Niall murmurs, tugging on Zayn's shirt like it’s in the way and tangles their legs together, still fidgeting.

“Doesn’t really sound like just some stuff, Nialler,” Zayn replies, pushing Niall's fringe out of his eyes and tilts Niall's chin up to look at him properly, “Is it your family? Did they find out about Louis?”

“My family?” Niall asks, but shakes his head, “No, they didn’t, they don’t know anything, although Greg might, but you know him, wouldn’t tell our parents anything. It’s not my family…”

 

“Did something happen?” Zayn probes and Niall looks up at him like he’s completely lost, and it all sinks it. “Did something happen with Louis?” The reaction in Niall is almost instant, he flinches away but then buries his head back into Zayn's chest, gripping even tighter, “What happened? Tell me I don’t have to kill anyone, because I will…”

“No, no, no,” Niall says hurriedly, “don’t kill him. We, we just had a fight. That’s all and we said stuff that maybe we shouldn’t have.”

“Is that all?” Zayn asks, and when Niall gives him an incredulous look, he tugs him closer, “I meant is that all as in are you not telling me something, because it sucks getting in fights, Ni, it really does, but what happened? You _climbed_ into my window, what happened?”

 

“I was, I was just jealous okay.” Niall sniffles, “You’ve been to some of that kid Harry Styles’ parties, right? So you know what they’re like, and you can’t tell me you don’t know Harry's best friend, Grimmy. I mean, everyone knows him. And, he’s like had the biggest crush on Lou since forever, I swear, and Louis doesn’t seem to think that matters despite the two of them bicker like old fish wives. And, everyone thinks they hate each other, but I’m not stupid Zayn! Louis likes bickering, I of all people know what Louis likes, and it’s no surprise that Nick likes a good challenge too. So, maybe I am the only one that sees it, but when those two fight it’s not like they hate each other, it’s like they’re that couple that’s been together forever, and as much as Louis likes to protest he doesn’t like Nick's company, he does! And, alcohol doesn’t explain how they always end up all over each other, because if they really hated each other the liquid courage would just make them angrier, but that’s not what happens at all. Honestly, if I didn’t know we were together, I would think that they were. It’s okay for me to be jealous, isn’t it?”

 

“I don’t really know,” Zayn replies, petting Niall on the head gently, “but, you are right. They are rather cosy. And, as much as I hate to say it, they make a lovely couple. I think it would work better. They wouldn’t have to hide anything, and I get the feeling that Louis doesn’t like all that hiding, does he?”

“That is exactly what he said,” Niall whines, tugging Zayn in like there’s room between the two of them for him to get rid of, “right before he told me to get a grip on reality and that he had to deal with me, and I quote, ‘fawning all over Zayn and all that’. That I could deal with a little jealousy because I couldn’t keep my mouth shut about how great you are. And then, he said that really, his thing for Nick is nothing compared to what I have for you and unless I want to get over the fact that there are other guys, and other guys that like Louis, we weren’t anything, not anymore.”

 

“He broke up with you?” Zayn asks, remembering the smiling, adoring way that Louis had always looked at Niall with, and finds it a little hard to believe.

“Yes.” Niall's voice wavers, “although, I think it was really me that broke it up.”

“Oh Niall,” Zayn says, dragging Niall in tighter, squeezing him up in a hug, “that’s not just some stuff.”

 

They lay together, wrapped up in one another as Niall starts to cry again, sobbing loudly into Zayn's chest. His fingers grip and straighten, digging painfully in, but Zayn doesn’t stop him, doesn’t do anything but comfort him, murmuring gibberish and kneading Niall's shoulders. Niall, after a particularly loud sob, looks up, his cheeks and eyes wet, nose a little snotty and stares at Zayn. It feels a little like he’s looking into Zayn's soul, and it’s strangely comforting. One of Niall's hands pets at Zayn's shoulder, and then curls around Zayn's chin, looking up like everything’s broken and there’s nothing but confusion, and pulls Zayn's face down, slotting their mouths neatly together.

 

And, kissing Niall now is nothing like it was five years ago.

 

 

**

“Are you sure this isn’t weird?” Niall breathes into Zayn's ear, tugging his sleeve to make him sit down upon the couch of pizzeria, pushing him to sidle along to let Niall in.

“It’s fine.” Zayn smiles back, tugging Niall closer so that Greg can sit down beside him, “I don’t mind. It’s not weird, we can go out some other time.”

“It’s supposed to be a date!” Niall replies incredulously, “And then my family just invited themselves along because they thought it was just two friends going out, how is that fine?”

“It’s alright Niall,” Zayn slips an arm around Niall's lower back, resting his hand in the middle and rubs soothingly, “It’s not like we can tell them, and I haven’t had a proper talk with your family in a long time. It’ll be fun.”

 

Niall starts to retort about it’s totally not fun because of the family thing at their date, but he just grumbles as his parents and Greg sit down, propping drinks in front of everyone.

 

“So Zayn,” Maura starts, “How are your studies going?” And, really that is probably one of the farthest things from his mind right at the moment but he smiles, and replies.

“Oh, they’re right,” He makes up, “stressful, but getting there. There’s so much to learn, and all that, you know?”

“Biology is very complicated,” Niall adds helpfully, “You should know that mother, Zayn and I have mostly all our classes together.”

“I remember when the two of you used to play on the play equipment together, and Niall would throw a tantrum when I tried to make him leave Zayn,” Maura gushes, “And now, you are both still practically inseparable.”  

“Thanks.” Niall says dryly as Greg snorts, ready to say something about how funny it was that Niall would throw a tantrum.

 

Niall's father goes to chip in on the conversation, but at that moment the pizzas arrive, a nice array, and the words are momentarily forgotten as they dig in. Zayn doesn’t bother with his own plate, just eats off Niall's and after the previous conversation, that’s not weird at all. Niall gets this rather smug look on his face and eyes off Zayn's drink, like he’s going to push the boundaries. Zayn rescues his drink, thinking that might just be a little too far to go and tangles his fingers with Niall's under the table top. That seems to make Niall happier, and he grips tightly on Zayn's hand like he never wants to let go.

 

At one point Greg gets this funny look on his face, and by that point Zayn's ankles are locked with Niall's, and it worries Zayn. But, the older boy says nothing, just snatches the last piece of meatlovers, much to Niall's disappointment. Niall goes to protest, but Zayn squeezes his arm and lets Greg have it, like it’s a thank you for not saying anything.

 

When dinner is finished, and it looks like they’re going to be invited back to Niall's house for some board game Greg gets up to go to the toilet and it looks like an escape route. Niall tugs Zayn up with a smile, “Oh, we’re going over to Zayn's for study.” He explains to his parents and pulls Zayn out of the restaurant, laughing breathlessly as they tumble out into the night time, heading for Zayn's car.

 

They sit there, for a few minutes, Niall half in the driver’s seat as he gets all up in Zayn's face, lips catching and parting noisily for air. Zayn pushes him off with a laugh, pleading not wanting Niall's parents to see, and going somewhere more private and Niall concedes. They drive around for a while, music loud and smiles bright, before Zayn pulls up into the playground car park, just across the road from the church they met. Niall raises an eyebrow, but jumps out and races straight for the slide. He’s way too big for it now, but goes down it as Zayn walks over, cackling like an idiot. Taking Niall's hands, Zayn persuades him with kisses to come over to the swings, and they have a competition to see who can swing the highest.

 

Niall tumbles off his swing, laughing breathlessly, and for a moment Zayn wonders how the hell he got such a beautiful person.

 

And then, Niall gets this delightfully evil glint in his eye and grabs at Zayn's hands, tugging him off the swing. Zayn follows Niall's lead, letting himself being dragged up into Niall's arms. The blonde looks like he’s going in for the kiss, but at the last moment turns his head and whispers breathlessly into Zayn's ear, “ _just trust me,”_ accompanying it with a wicked little laugh at Zayn's sigh because that’s not the same as a kiss, not at all. But, trust Niall he does, and lets the boy grips his hand tightly and pull him along, out of the playground. Zayn expects Niall to drag him back to his car, the back seat was rather comfortable or better yet, Zayn's parents were out on a business trip thing, but Niall tugs him out the car park, out onto the edge of the road and laughing they run across it.

 

“Where are we going, Ni?” Zayn asks, his voice raising an octave when they stumble into the church car park, and Niall just turns to give Zayn a small smirk. Their booted feet make loud crunching noises as they walk across the gravel car park, and in the door way to their church a small light globe flickers.

“Pastor Stevens always leaves the church unlocked so that unfortunates can have somewhere to sleep during the night, or if God calls to someone in the late hours.” Niall grins, like that explains everything and lets go of Zayn's hand to jiggle the lock a little and open up the door.

 

Something nervous stirs low in the pit of Zayn's stomach as they walk into the building. He can see his and Niall's family’s pews, and the carpet underneath their feet is plush. As if Niall can read minds he sits in the last pew and takes off his shoes, kicking them underneath the pew in front and smiles up at Zayn when he slips his jumper off his shoulders, sleekly and his shirt – which Zayn realises was stolen from his own wardrobe and that makes him shiver – rides up.

 

“Niall,” Zayn stresses, and his voice echoes through the building, the acoustics turning his worry into something rather beautiful, “what are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” Niall asks, jumping up to pull Zayn closer by the edges of his jacket and slips his hands underneath Zayn's shirt, fingers spreading over the firm expanses of Zayn's stomach. He tucks Zayn in closer to him, reaching up to join their lips.

“Do you think this is really a good idea?” Zayn asks back in between kisses and Niall bites on his bottom lip in response, tugging at it with his teeth.

“Pastor Stevens was the preacher that tried to humiliate me when we were twelve,” Niall says slowly, “and, when that didn’t work he tried to shame everyone into believing that something that feels like this is _wrong_. It’s not wrong to love you, Zayn, you told me that and I don’t think you ever believed that yourself.”

 

And, Zayn feels his breath hitch in his throat because Niall's never said that before, _never_ said that he loves Zayn. Really, he doesn’t know what to do with that, how to process it or anything.

 

“You know what that preaching really is?” Niall demands, “It’s fear mongering, it’s a way to control people and it’s a way to hurt things that scare you or things that you don’t really understand. It _hurt_ you Zayn, I’m not stupid, I know what you’ve been feeling because everyone has this stupid role in their heads for you and it’s nothing like what you want. And, it makes you feel bad because of it all and I don’t want you to feel like this anymore. You don’t deserve to feel like this.”

“So you’re just going to throw everything we’ve been taught since we were seven away?” Zayn says quietly, “Just going to pretend those things never mattered?”

“They’re not important if they dehumanize us,” Niall shrugs and steps away from Zayn, turning to walk down the main corridor between the pews, fingers running over the edges of the carved wood, “I get it if you just want to pretend for the rest of your life that you don’t care about me, marry some girl your parents like and have half a million kids like a good Christian man. That’s fine. That’s what everyone wants of me too. That’s what they expect of me, but that’s not who I am. And I’m not going to pretend I’m some family man when all I want is an apartment with half a million books and a _Nando’s_ down the corner. Maybe you don’t want to fight things Zayn, but I do.”

 

“I,” Zayn says, “I want that too. I want lazy mornings and toes peeking out of too big pyjama bottoms and chipped mismatching mugs and stupid things like that. I don’t want to pretend to want what everyone else wants from me.”

“I don’t think you really do,” Niall replies, he’s standing right in the front of the church now and turns back to Zayn and it’s like there’s a challenge in his voice, like he’s daring Zayn to say anything. And, Zayn doesn’t know what to say, he’s not even sure if he wants to say anything.

 

So, instead, he toes off his shoes, socked feet sinking into the plush carpet and follows Niall, walking determinedly between the pews. Niall stands there, tiny against the rows and rows of uncomfortable wooden chairs and Zayn can almost imagine the entire congregation there, their disappointed faces as they sing hymns of praise and, really, they don’t seem so scary anymore. He’s practically running when he gets to Niall, hooking himself around the boy and they trip up, landing with a thud on the step they took their first communion together. Zayn fiercely attaches their lips, resting in the dip between Niall's legs, teeth clashing and tongues battling for dominance. Niall always wins, he’s the more rebellious, strong willed of the two, but this time he lets Zayn win, lets him plunder his mouth and grind down. Stopping for some well-deserved air, Niall wastes no time in finally stripping of his shirt, hands going to rid Zayn of his jacket.

 

It’s then, with Niall looking up at him like he’s quite possibly everything, when Zayn realises where this going and he feels his breath catch in his throat and he stutters, hands flailing a little. “I, um, I, there’s” He stumbles over his words, flushing and then gets distracted by the milky expanse of Niall's skin, pressing kisses onto it, over it all, “I don’t have anything with me, there might be stuff in my car –”

“Hush,” Niall kisses Zayn, hand curling on the nape of Zayn's neck and he smiles up onto Zayn's lip, “pockets.” He says and lets go to dig through his pockets. His phone, keys, tangled up earphones and finally lube and condoms go rolling out onto the stone church floor a step downwards. They make a noise – a loud clattering sound and Zayn freezes nervously, just enough time to allow Niall to rid him of his shirt.

“You planned this.” He accuses, and Niall just smiles sweetly and bites what he knows will become hickeys across his stomach.

 

“Trousers off, now,” Niall orders instead and Zayn scrambles to obey, unbuckling his belt and curses the thought to wear tight skinny jeans, Niall with his ridiculously small legs is wearing skinny jeans too, but they’re anything but that on him. Niall gets his own trousers off first, and the sight doesn’t really make it any easier for Zayn, his cock flushed and leaking against his stomach and Zayn can’t really believe this is going to happen –

“Oh, good lord,” Zayn says hand dropping to the creamy skin of Niall's thigh, and Niall smiles wirily up at him.

“Shh, He might hear you.” He teases, but bites his lip and calmly gets Zayn's trousers off, pants too, so that they’re both naked, their clothes haphazardly across the front of the church, a pair of boxers hanging off the first pew.

“God, I just can’t believe this is happening,” Zayn murmurs, fingers groping for the lube packet, “and I hardly think using the lord’s name in vain is really the worst thing that’s happening right now, _holy shit_ I’m going to fuck you.”

 

“Yeah,” Niall smiles, hands going to trace at Zayn's cheek bones and jawline, “yeah. In a church, now come _on_.”

“Anyone could walk in,” Zayn says nervously, looking up at the back of the church, and then even more nervously, “and I don’t know what I am doing. You know that, I’ve never done this before. I am going to be _terrible_.”

“You’ve bottomed enough times to know what you’re doing Zayn.” Niall grins cheekily, and Zayn flushes, but doesn’t look any less worried, “Hey, come on, you do know what you’re doing, I’ll work you through it, we’re going to do this together.”

“Yeah, okay.” Zayn says and traces patterns along Niall's thigh for a moment, then liberally coats his fingers in lube, “Yeah, just got to remember what you do to me, how you make me feel, I can do this.”

 

“Mmphf,” Niall wiggles, fingers digging into the back of Zayn's neck and tugging him down for a searing kiss, and for a moment, Zayn's too overwhelmed to do anything much but kiss back. “Come on, come on Zayn, want you, want you inside me.”

“Oh _fuck_ ,” Zayn says and he wants to say more but Niall's words have just short circuited his brain and he fumbles to do everything Niall asks. He grips just a little too tightly onto Niall's hipbone, fingernails curling into the slight muscles and he knows later little crescent shapes will litter Niall's skin. With a small smile, Zayn moves his hand just to make more and then Niall shifts impatiently and spreads his legs farther, and “ _fuckfuckfuck,_ ” that’s all just a bit too much –

 

Carefully, so carefully Niall's making impatient noises again, he slips a finger in, crooking it gently and _holy fucking shit_. He is essentially inside Niall. And damn, Niall really was counting on this because he’s already slick and stretched, pushing down upon Zayn's finger. He slips another inside, and another because he wants to feel how much Niall can take, wants to learn the inside of Niall by touch. These tiny, breathless little noises that Zayn can’t quite name slip from Niall's lips as he stretches Niall's legs farther apart, knowing the flexible boy can take it. One foot rests down upon the cold, stone floor of the church, next to the pile of things from Niall's pockets, and the other dips up to rest on the step above the two of them. Zayn slips his fingers out to nervously struggle with the condom wrapper, slippery hand fumbling over the foil and Niall curls himself upwards to slow Zayn's hands down, open up the wrapper and slides the condom on, slicking lube all over, kisses darting lightly upon Zayn's chest.

 

“Are you okay?” Zayn asks, mainly because he needs to say something or else he might go insane and Niall snorts at him.

“Aren’t you supposed to say that after you have your dick in me?” He retorts, but it really has no sting and Zayn shuffles forwards a steal another long kiss from Niall's lips, effectively shutting him up. He does as Niall orders though, because he can’t think of anything he would really rather do, lining himself up and pushing gently in, fingers dancing along Niall's hipbone. Niall is quiet as Zayn slides all the way in, bottoming out and dizzy from the feeling of how tight, warm, perfect Niall is around him. The foot resting against the next step moves, curling around Zayn and his heel presses into the dip of Zayn's back, resting upon Zayn's arse and pushes at him, urging him to move. Slowly, Zayn shifts his hips in a tiny roll, and Niall's hands move erratically, one gripping the carpeted step above them and the other tangling between Zayn's fingers upon his hipbone. He breathes out one soft word, a _“Zaynnn,”_ and then Zayn moves.

 

Zayn starts off slow, gentle thrusts, barely pulling back before pressing back in and Niall pushes down, rocking himself onto Zayn. And, that soft, leisurely pace doesn’t stay that way for long at all. He draws back farther, a wicked snap of his hips back in and Niall's making noises that he never knew he could draw from those lips. Zayn lets his other hand drop down onto the step by Niall's waist and he leans forwards as he fucks in, sucking Niall's bottom lip into his mouth as the angle of his thrusts change, hard and deep. Niall's heel presses harder into Zayn's back, slipping down farther his arse cheeks, and urges him on _“harder, faster, make me yours, don’t let anyone think they can tell you I can’t be.”_

 

Moving his hand back up to Niall's hipbones once more, Zayn lifts Niall's arse up a little higher and he thrusts in at this new angle with renewed vigour, not sure he’s really going to be able to last, not with Niall rolling his hips, grinding himself upon Zayn's dick. Niall's forehead  his dotted with sweat, blonde fringe sticking to it, and Zayn wants to lap it up, curl his tongue along Niall's skin and leave it blossoming with his marks. He starts to do so, leaning down again and he fucks in at just the right spot and the reaction is stunning in Niall. His back arches, and there’s so much of his collarbones and lean stomach on display it hurts Zayn's eyes try to take it all in at once. Moans and curses slip from Niall's lips and it echoes through the church, the noise ringing back at Zayn from all angles. Zayn learns that spot, and finds it again and again, just to pull the reaction out of Niall some more, hitting it harder and faster when Niall starts to curse in Spanish, filthy words leaving his lips just for the stain glass windows and prayer books to hear.

 

The white-knuckled fingers from upon the step curl themselves into Zayn’s hair and pull him closer to Niall, their lips meeting in another awkward kiss that is more a brush of lips than anything else.  He tugs and yanks at Zayn's hair, pulling it right out of shape and smiles up into curl of tongue and nip of teeth, and stills the kiss to rest their foreheads together, breathing in Zayn's exhale, so close it is almost possible to taste him.

“Slow,” He says, “slowly,” and his voice sounds wreaked, traveling awkwardly over the vowel and Zayn slows down, barely a grind of hips into Niall. They move like that, foreheads pressed tightly together, lips chasing one another’s. Everything is so completely slow until Niall clenches down, around Zayn and suddenly the tight heat he’s surrounded by is so much tighter, and he can’t help but thrust properly as he comes, everything is just Niall, Niall, Niall.

 

Lips curl up into a smile, and Niall traces over Zayn's cheekbones as he comes, grinding down upon Zayn and it’s all too much, but Niall hasn’t come yet and he feels like failure, through the haziness, feels like he’s not good enough for Niall. That heel against Zayn's arse squeezes down harder, and Zayn thrusts in a few more times, grazing at Niall's prostrate and making that back bow again and again, Niall's body pushing up, pushing Zayn deeper and Niall is coming, coming between them and Zayn's sure there’s going to be stains upon the carpet below them.

 

Niall sprawls lazily, boneless, upon the step and smiles up at Zayn in a way that has Zayn's fuzzy mind desperately trying to work again, trying to burn the sight into his eyelids so every time he closes his eyes he’ll remember. The hand in Zayn's hair tugs him back down, and Zayn traces Niall's kiss swollen lips with his own. He wants to tell Niall that he loves him, that he’s loved Niall for _years_ , but he’s not sure Niall would take him seriously in this moment, that Niall would laugh and say that post-coital Zayn is a romantic.

“You can get out of me, now.” Niall says instead, smirk against Zayn's lips and Zayn makes a face at him as he does as he’s told, taking the condom off and tying it up, wondering if he’s supposed to take it home with him or what, because he can hardly leave it here. 

“Niall Horan,” He says, “Professional mood ruiner.” And Niall laughs, filling up the church with it and it pours back at Zayn, heavenly from every angle.

 

“I think I have carpet burn,” Niall continues, “and this step isn’t actually the most comfortable thing, surprisingly. It’s also kind of cold in here, and I’m sticky.”

“You’re the one that planned this,” Zayn shrugs cheekily, “perhaps you should have thought of those things.”

“Well, the plan was actually to ride you on a pew so you were the one who was getting all squished up on things,” Niall laughs, and Zayn's sure his brain has had enough of Niall killing cells off with his words tonight, “and it’s not like I keep wet wipes or some shit in my pockets. You should have thought of that one.”

“How can I think of it if I had no idea this was going to happen?” Zayn asks, but he bends his body over Niall's and kisses at Niall's stomach, and curls his tongue over the shifting muscles, lapping up mess there.

“Oh, okay,” Niall chokes out, fingers stroking along Zayn's hairline and slips past it, locking into the long strands, pulling on them. “That’s certainly getting the job done,” he tries to tease, but the last syllable drags out into a low moan, “get up, clothes on, take me home _now_.”

 

Zayn licks one last stripe up Niall's torso, and peers up at Niall; frantic and debauched, grasping for his clothes. He slides out from underneath Zayn, pulls on the closest pair of briefs and his jeans. Zayn gets his own briefs thrown at him, other clothes too and pulls his shirt on, hoping around to get his legs into his skinny jeans. When he stops to pick up the stuff from Niall's pockets and the little corners of ripped plastic he sees it. It startles a laugh out of him, and then Niall's there, curling up against Zayn's back, heavy and warm and peers over Zayn's shoulder to snort at it too.

“Do you think the congregation will think it’s from a pigeon?” He asks, and Zayn shrugs, reaching behind him to stuff Niall's phone, earphones and keys back into his pockets.

“I doubt they’ll think it’s come if that’s what you’re really asking.” He replies and is quite prepared when Niall locks his arms around Zayn's neck and jumps up for a piggy back. Curling his arms around Niall's thighs he turns around, feet sliding through the plush carpet until they reach their shoes and instead of putting them back on Niall just carries them, laughing as Zayn winces through the gravel car park.

 

“Come on,” Niall drawls as they scuttle across the road, his feet hitting Zayn's legs, “you’re so slow, I want to go home, want to fuck you in the shower.” And Zayn practically throws Niall into the passenger seat in his haste to get them back to his place.

 

 

**

When Zayn's parents come home two nights later they bring stories of a friend’s daughter. They mention how Zayn used to play in the backyard with her as children, her dolls would drive his toy trucks, and they had a lot of fun. Zayn yawns through the conversation until they bring up how much she’s grown up, how she’s a beautiful young lady now. And, Zayn's not stupid; he knows what that’s code for.

 

And when they haven’t stopped making sly comments about her or bringing out old toys to show and reminisce about how they played together Zayn knows this isn’t the normal thing they go through. He doesn’t see what the attraction to this particular girl is, why she isn’t like every other that his parents fawn over for a couple of days. Why the fascination hasn’t ended with her yet, and stupidly he asks because it’s driving him a little insane.

 

“You’ve known her for a very long time,” His father says, “you have always got on so well. You two must be so familiar with each other, know each other well.” And Zayn holds back his snort because he barely remembers the girl and –

“I have known Niall a lot longer, and a lot better,” He replies, a little stupidly, “by your logic I should be dating him.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Trisha laughs, “Niall's a boy. That would be a sin.” And, Zayn feels all the colour drain out of his face, provides his family with a tight smile before disappearing upstairs.

 

He hugs his pillow tightly, considering climbing out of his room to go see Niall, and digs his fingers into his palms so he won’t cry. Why couldn’t his family except something like that? How could he live in a family that hates something that defines him?

 

 

**

“Where are we even going?” Niall asks, clutching onto his hand luggage and slips his free one into Zayn's, lacing their fingers together.

“Do you remember my aunty that visited when we were like fifteen or something?” Zayn asks back, shouldering his hand luggage and pulls Niall along, down to their gate.

“Yeah, she was lovely,” He replies, “I think she knew I was dating Louis, despite everyone else thinking he was just a friend.”

“She did.” Zayn stops, and the two of them sit down in the waiting area, “She also knew that I don’t like girls, and she said then she would do anything that would help. We’re going to live at her house.”

 

“Well,” Niall says, “I hope she’s got a big fridge and I really liked her, so that’s good.”

“She really likes you to,” Zayn smiles, “We’re going to have to get jobs and work, but I think we can make this happen. My aunt says she probably could put a good word into a couple of places she visits a lot and get us some.”

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” Niall replies, staring out the large glass windows and watches as the plane rolls up, the passageway docking onto the front door, “I can’t believe _you_ planned this all. I can’t believe it was your idea, I can’t believe you’re doing this for me.” Zayn lets go of Niall's hand to turn his chin back to him and smiles as looks straight into those cerulean eyes, and he’s never felt like he’s known anyone better.

 

 

“I love you.” He explains, “And no one is going to tell me that I can’t.”


End file.
